My favorite carol this year is one that few people have heard of and I myself did not know until this advent season. It's title alone sets it apart from the more popular carols, which I love as well. Can you guess which it is? Joy to the World O Come, All Ye Faithful O Little…
Empty, the sanctuary waits beneath a tree, beneath a cross— the branches a burden and trough to bear body and newborn king. White wails of a storm without are vespers whispered warm within, And yet echo infant, age-old cry — of beginning and of end. In the lonely silence, all is dead, yet all holds living…
As I was practicing piano the other day, I wrote a series of three questions to ask myself as I worked on each detail: Is it clean? Is it beautiful? Does it mean something? First, I work technically, listening even to exercises to discern if they are played with clarity and precision. Are they clean?…
We are mariners, mariners we, made for the land, parted from sea from that second day and still - striving as on the earth to fill- drawn by its alluring, billowy waves- we drink down the depths to find watery graves. . We hear the call, that age-old call, a whisper first, a breeze enthralls,…
Easter morn rose grey with fog -anticipation hid- No dawn’s light to testify to what the Savior did. . Still we know and sing aloud of the Risen Son And yet the part that strikes me most was that on Friday done. . Rising up is natural; the sun never stays down. What is more…
Awhirl before my eyes did swirl the sparks As one by one the candles turned to smoke And sitting there in silent, stillest dark, A flicker burned within and I awoke. . I felt a pang for that dear body broke That bled betwixt time and eternity. It seemed I saw His image in the…
There is a story to be found in anything and, I am finding, that there is also a theology to be found in any story. I feel this poem is an apt example of enjoying the beauty of an old tale reimagined while contemplating a truth that shimmered in the retelling. Mirror, Mirror Had Great…
I was inspired this morning as I walked to practice piano for an upcoming recital... this would have been great, had I been inspired to practice. Rather, I was inspired to set the opening of Wordsworth’s The Prelude to music. My roommate (bless her) stopped me just in time: “Ryanne, if you write a melody and…
I am this season’s child though I am dressed as spring: The burning gold of fall is hid beneath the flow'rs I bring. While storms of thought are whirling, and swirl within my mind, All you see's the cloudless blue of clear sky in my…
I took this photo on a sunset run and added the words (surprise! They were not actually fabulous skywriting!) as I was doing some reading later. The exercise, combined with the wisdom of St. Hildegard, were a welcome relief to an emotional day. Sometimes on overcast days like today, we fail to remember the sun.…
